


down low, too slow

by dupesoclock



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Characters & Tags TBA, M/M, Rivals to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:46:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22873465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dupesoclock/pseuds/dupesoclock
Summary: New legend Octane joins the Apex games, and doesn't intend to back down from his obnoxious persona and be everything but a team player, leaving a lot of his fellow competitors frustrated - with one holographic trickster, in particular, being especially so. As seasons go by, will the two eventually patch up bridges and settle their differences, or will they be two out of three parts of a squad made from hell?
Relationships: Lifeline | Ajay Che & Octane | Octavio Silva, Mirage | Elliott Witt/Octane | Octavio Silva
Kudos: 20





	down low, too slow

**Author's Note:**

> hi welcome to im elliott and i have no idea how to write summaries or fic in general BDFJSHDGJHFDLJHH
> 
> why am i attempting a slowburn? well for nanowrimo last year i thought it was a great idea and now im just picking it up again as a year long project to a) get me more confident to post and ask for help, b) help me characterise the Apex Legends:tm: (2019) better, and 3) to just...................... write the most self indulgent bullshit i can.
> 
> this fic is a tropefest, just warning you now. if you wanna see any tropes in particular, send me an ask on my [blog](https://dupesoclock.tumblr.com/ask) (wow look at that, technology) and i'll be sure to try and work it into the plot somehow. any questions about the fic or like............ oneshot requests can Also go there, im always down to write more. if you aren't here for tropefests and hell then like... fuck idk what to tell you
> 
> OH this fic starts in season 1 and goes through Every Season. oh yeah it's gonna be like that. enjoy you heathens.

This was exactly the kind of rush that he was looking for.

While Octavio Silva had carried quite the presence across the Outlands with his social media outreach and streaming, showcasing all manner of death-defying stunts, tricks and mistake, the Apex Games was his biggest stage yet, and every moment in the arena of King’s Canyon was electric. Having only been here a short while already, he’d gotten acquainted with most of the arena, running circles around enemy squads almost effortlessly, leading him to the top almost every time. Almost. If he wasn’t, then, in his mind, it was almost always down to his squadmates dragging him behind. Like right now, for instance.

Third round, the ring had just closed. The scene is like so - a squad of the big guy, the shifty girl, and Lifeline (hey, he was new, he wasn’t supposed to remember their names, right?) having taken hold of the choke point just outside of the Market, a small cave area branching off between the Bunker complex and the arena’s centre, heading towards Cage. They were taking potshots (they’d have to run out of ammo sometime, surely) while his two squadmates - the scary tall lady and the trickster - poked their heads up behind rocks every so often to return fire. Octane had been sent (nay, ordered - barked at, even) by their clear squad leader to gather the last of what he could carry from the Market, being the fastest of the three - clearly - to get in and out as quickly as possible. Now with ammo and a few spare shields and small medkits in one hand, twirling a stim needle between his fingers on the other, the speedster pushed open the large metal door at the front of the complex - up with his foot, and then his shoulder before he ducked under and took off running, jamming the stim right into his heart and taking off in a run-and-slide, right behind the cover of a rock next to his panicked teammate

Pulling the empty stim needle out and tossing it haphazardly over the rock they hid behind, he dumped the rest of the loot to one side before taking the rifle off his back and jumping up to a few shots himself, quickly shrinking back into cover as a bullet barely grazed the side of his face. There was so much noise - the symphony of gunfire shooting off into a chaotic vibrato, complete with explosive harmonies and the percussion of footsteps, and the loud bass drum of his own heartbeat in his ears. It was enough to make him shiver with excitement - in all those years in the Gauntlet, he had never found anything even remotely close to this. The speedster laughed to himself, looking over to his left just as his dear squadmate ducked down to dodge a bullet with a squeal, only making Octane laugh harder.

“Getting choked up there, compadre?” He slapped a hand against Mirage’s chest, who pushed him off.

“Shut up and focus, would you?! It’s intr- infrut- infurrit- it’s pissing me off!” Though there was no need for it to be under the mask of the gunfire, his voice was a hushed growl of frustration. “Because we’re cornered, Anita’s over by the other rock, and you’re laughing about it!”

“True, true. But we can always come back and kick their ass if we run fast enough-”

“Not all of us are as fast as you, _Octane-_ ”

“Oh sí, trust me, I know.”

The trickster paused for a moment, almost taken aback by the response, before he scowled. “You’re absolutely insufferable sometimes.”

“Ha! It’s all in the charm, amigo.” Turning around again, he leaned around the side of the rock and took a few one-handed shots with the R99, his aim shaky and unstable as he emptied the clip and returned to cover. 

“Yeah, charm my ass.”

_“Are you two girls gonna keep bickering like school kids, or am I gonna have to come over there and show you how to be adults on the battlefield?”_

“Uh, sorry, ma’am.” Mirage’s annoyed scowl melted rather quickly at the sound of Bangalore’s voice over the comms, making Octane snort a little trying to contain his laughter, another quick glare being shot his way as a result. 

_“Damn right you are. Listen, I’m cornered over here, I need you two to start going around the right side of that rock, toss whatever you got at em - decoys, grenades, whatever. Get ‘em off my back so I can smoke ‘em from behind. Then get ‘em from your side. Got it?”_

“Roger.” As if he could see her, Mirage did a quick two-fingered salute, disarming himself by placing his pistol in his leg holster and grabbing a grenade from his belt as he poked his head around the side again. 

The holographic projectors on his arms began to glow a soft blue in preparation for use, as Mirage drummed his fingers on the side of the frag grenade he held in his hands. “Alright, Oct, we’ve got this. Just stick to the plan and-”

The sound of bouncing mechanism caused him to stop and turn around, watching Octane soar above his head rather gracefully as he pulled his gun off his back, before he yelled rather loudly and opened fire.

The trickster almost felt himself age in that moment out of sheer frustration, running a hand through his hair and muttering a quiet ‘okay’ before slotting the grenade back onto his belt and bolting out of cover, running a hand across his holographic discs as he did, disappearing almost as soon as he appeared into enemy view.

_“What the hell are you two clowns doing?!”_ Bangalore’s teeth were gritted as she growled down the mic, presumably watching the two men from cover as they fumbled about the other squad, popping in and out of view and spraying bullets, praying that at least some of them would hit and knock the other squad down like pins in the panic and chaos that they seemed to create.

Mirage went down first. A shot to the shoulder knocked his aim off-kilter, and as he moved his hand over to compress it, a shot to the leg caused him to stumble and fall on the very same arm, his gun flying out of his grip and skidding across the bed of flowers that surrounded them. Bangalore was next, having rushed out of cover to save the two idiots she called squadmates with a gun in hand, taking a shot right to the neck while caught off guard, falling fast and hard, though not before she yelled to get the attention of Octane. Now the last man standing, he turned from looking at a wincing Mirage with his face in the floor, to Bangalore now on the ground, trying to get up despite her profuse bleeding. And in that hesitation, it was over - a loud spray of gunshots, a fierce flame of pain across his chest, and he was knocked over, slowly losing consciousness as he laid in the bed of flowers, stained in both his own and other’s blood.

Coming back from that - the wonders of technology, right? - was bittersweet. Of course, the airtime was, quite frankly, sick as hell, and for sure the camera footage had caught some of that, but the rest of his squad couldn’t keep up, and that meant he was left in the dust. Octavio sighed, pulling his goggles off of his face and letting them loosely hang around his neck as he left the respawn office. He stretched his arms above his head, wincing a little at the leftover burning of where bullet holes _should_ have been if not for, again, the amazing wonders of technology, with which he could do any number of stupid things and suffer no physical consequences. Social consequences, on the other hand-

“Hey, Octane.”

The voice from behind him caused him to roll his eyes as he turned around to face Mirage, who seemed to have had his checks finished only moments after his own. “Hola, señor. Hit your head hard on the fall down there? You ate dirt pretty hard.”

His brow furrowed as he frowned. “Every time you rush ahead and ignore orders, you get somebody killed. We would have had that if you didn’t pull that stunt!”

“To be fair, you followed after me-”

“You gave me no choice!”

“You could have covered me from there, easy.”

“Like hell I could. You would have run circles around them-”

“I know.”

“-and I couldn’t have gotten a clean shot!”

“Sounds like something you should work on, amigo.”

“Would you knock that off?! Seriously!” Mirage raised his voice, just as a pair of game workers passed by and gave them an odd glance. Clearing his throat, he continued at a much quieter volume, though his tone of irritation remained as sharp as ever. “You deflect everything onto everyone else, you can’t comprehend that sometimes things are your fault, and, god forbid, you’re ever _responsible._ It’s never your fault, is it, Octane?”

Octavio paused for a moment, opting to look away from Mirage and down to his hand, opening and closing his fist before he pulled his hat off his head and sighed to himself. Shaking his head, he ran a hand through his hair to fix the mess a little, before looking up again. “...Sí. Next time, maybe focus on keeping up before trying to complain.”

For once, the trickster seemed to have no words. Or at least, he tripped up on them in his mind, which, in that case, wasn’t anything new. “I... can’t tell whether you’re screwing with me or not.”

Octavio pulled his face mask down, fully revealing the smirk that only his eyes gave away before, seeming to irritate Mirage further. But before either of them could continue their back-and-forth, a firm hand on Mirage’s shoulder caused him to stop, and stiffen.

“Now, since you girls didn’t hear me before, I’m going to ask again.” Though calm-seeming, there was a deep-seated anger on Bangalore’s voice that caused even Octavio to deflate a little. “ _What the hell was that?_ ”

There was a beat of silence, before Mirage swallowed hard and opened his mouth to speak.

“No, you know what?” The soldier cut him off before he could get a word out, and she looked between the two men- boys, even. “I’ve seen FNGs who don’t crack under pressure that easy. Respawn or not, your playground drama got people killed- got your _squad_ killed. It’s not just about you.”

The way she shot a look at Octavio made him scrunch his nose a little, but again, as soon as he opened his mouth to try and make an objection, Bangalore continued.

“My suggestion? You two get your shit together. If it’s not me who’s with you, it’ll be someone else, and even if you aren’t at each other’s throats, you’ve both got stuff to work on out there. Got it?”

No response, just stares between her and each other.

“I said, _got it?_ ”

This time, a mumble of agreement, and quiet nodding. Bangalore nodded and patted Mirage’s shoulder (which she was still holding, even gripping it like an iron vice now) before she finally let go, and started walking down the hall, heading towards the observation deck overlooking King’s Canyon, where the game they had lost was still taking place. 

Octavio turned around to watch her leave, narrowing his eyes for a moment. He didn’t like people telling him what to do most of the time, much less being backed into a corner by intimidation and blame. He turned back to look Mirage up and down, watching the trickster roll his shoulder where Bangalore’s hand had been, clearly feeling the afterthought of pain before respawning. They looked each other in the eyes for a moment, before Mirage awkwardly coughed and walked past him to follow the soldier to the observation deck in a half-hearted jog, which, again, Octavio watched with a blank face, until he was left alone in the hallway. He looked down to the floor for a while, at his reflection staring back at him in the artificial light hitting the speckled vinyl that was… corporately impeccable. Kicking his heel against the floor and creating a loud, sudden squeak that echoed down the hall and made him wince for a moment, he started to walk down the hall himself, not taking a left to the observation deck and instead choosing to head to the on-site cafeteria, to wait for the games to be over. After all, what was the point in watching if he wasn’t there?

The entertainment complex just outside of the arena was packed with visitors, some of whom had come to see the games and others who had come to see the sights. Of course, the cafeteria (a building in the centre of the complex, tables surround it on the outside, in the glow of the sun from the lack of roof above them) was packed with people, though, seeing a Legend walk between them caused people to move aside and make room, all while staring in wonder, like they hadn’t just seen a unicorn, but a twunicorn - a two-horned unicorn… yeah, that made sense, right? Not that Octavio seemed to mind; the attention was something he was used to, after all. Taking a free seat at the back of the cafeteria, against the back wall of the building, he leaned back on his chair to balance on two legs, placing his own two legs on the table in front of him and crossing his ankles over. After all, it was about the little death-defying things in life, right?

Though it still sucked major ass they couldn’t pull a big W that round, it was more so the aftermath of it - especially Mirage. The guy was… well, obnoxious. Full of himself, and unlike Octavio, he didn’t _really_ have any good reason for it. Outside of the ring, he was shut down almost instantly by everyone around him, the kid of guy to laugh at his own jokes and wisecracks even if no one else would, only really chipping in to be a smartass and get a laugh out of somebody. And in the ring? Well… he shook like he was hooked up to a car battery. He stuttered and fumbled and probably projected his frustration that he couldn’t do much onto everyone else. He couldn’t take risks, or have fun. And, probably most importantly, all this meant that he couldn’t land a shot to save his life - not that it ever did. The speedster curled his nose again, he crossed his arms across his chest almost in defiance. If anyone had the right to big himself up the way Mirage did, it was him - he was a star beyond anything anyone had seen before, the man who dared to go where everyone else feared, the man who-

The sound of a can slamming against the surface of the table caused him to snap out of his thoughts and open one eye, face falling for a moment before he gave a lopsided smirk at the face staring back at him.

“Ah, you kicked it too, eh?”

“Quit’cha whinin’.” Ajay leaned back in her chair, placing a foot on the edge of her seat and resting her arm on her knee, opening her can with a satisfying click and fizz. “They’re almost done anyway, last pair of squads. Stalemate.” 

“Eh, boring.”

She hummed softly, before taking a drink, throwing her free arm over the back of her chair and taking a brief look around behind her, at the families and tourists gathered around them, throwing looks their way every so often. “Mm. Stuck in Bunker.”

“ _Ech_.”

The medic snorted a little, shooting a look back at Octavio as he attempted to balance on one chair leg, before she reached forward and grabbed his ankle to pull him down to four chair legs again. “...Anyway, they were playin’ back some of the footage. Highlights an’ all dat.”

That piqued his interest. Previously scowling at Ajay’s efforts to stop him from defying gravity, he moved his feet from the table to the floor, and leaned forward a little. “Oh, oh, did they get anything of me?”

“Uh-huh, they sure did, brother,” Holding the top of the can like a claw and gently swirling it, she clicked her lips together before placing the can on top of the table. “Ya just can’t help yaself, can ya?”

His face fell again, as he leaned back into his seat. “...Oh, not you too-”

“Yes, me too. Tell me, was it Anita or Elliott that chewed ya out?”

He was silent for a moment, but the way her gaze stayed focused on him almost _made_ him reply. “...Both of ‘em.”

“Both of ‘em!” Ajay repeated after him, her tone a strange juxtaposition of both disbelief and expectancy. “How many times do people gotta tell ya, this is a _group effort_ -”

“ _Por amor de Dios_ , Ajay, I get it!”

“Then act like it den! This ain’t The Octavio Silva Show anymore!”

The two fell silent for a while after that, with Octavio folding his arms across his chest and, for once, not snapping back with a response, instead choosing to look away and idly bounce his leg as he leaned back. Ajay watched him, looking at him over the edge of her can before she finished her soda, and pointedly placed it down again to make a statement.

“...Look, at least _try_ to open your ears. Who knows, you could learn a thing or two from this bunch.”

“Pft, like what? How to be an old fart?”

“...Silva-”

“ _Aaalright_ , alright, I hear ya.” Anything to get her off his back. Octavio looked up at her sceptical expression, before placing a hand on his chest, reaching out and gently touching hers laying against the table with the other. “Promise.”

The medic looked down at his hand on hers for a moment, before her expression softened - her eyebrows furrowed, her lips uncurling into a small smile - as she turned her hand over in his grip, and held it back with a soft squeeze. “Thanks. Trust me, it’s better for the both of us. You make friends, and I won’t have to tear my hair out chasin’ after ya, because Lord knows no one else will.”

“Ha! That’s if you can catch me, doctora.”

She snorted again - seemingly despite herself, she couldn’t help but be amused by Octavio’s side comments, despite the years of immunity she thought she’d built up to it simply by tolerating him. Pulling back the hand he still held and slapping his arm, Ajay and Octavio shared a smile. He didn’t notice the way hers faltered slightly as he looked away while he leaned back again.

By that point, the game had finished up at an anticlimactic end, if the monitors they passed on the way to the locker room was anything to go by (death to the ring? Lame.). Ajay and Octavio walked side by side, exchanging in other idle conversations - game life, room decor, contact with home (which he danced around rather quickly) and the like - as they got their things and headed back to the apartment complex. Eventually, the conversation devolved into Octavio’s newest stunt plans - shark tanks, rings of fire, the entire works - with Ajay shooting him down with a mix of both amusement and sternness (“ _Jeez_ , you sound like my mom.” “Well, someone has to make sure you’re not gonna get yerself killed when ya can’t come back.”) as they approached and went to their individual lockers to grab their things. Punching in the code, Octavio reached and grabbed the small pile of things in the bottom of the locker with a tight fist - his keys and his phone, because nothing else was really needed aside from that, right? - before pulling it back and almost slamming the door. As he turned around to head for the door though (twirling his keys from the small ring holding all his keychains together), Octavio’s glance locked onto the trickster in the corner. Locker door open, looking in the small mirror affixed on the inside, fiddling with the curls of his hair that hugged one side of his face almost perfectly… in the reflection, their eyes locked from across the room, and at that moment Mirage looked away again, trying to keep focus on himself… not that that should have been hard, Octavio thought as he headed out of the locker room.

Closing the door to his apartment and looking around, surveying the small bombshell that seemed to have dropped over the past week of streaming (empty take-out packets, soda and energy drink cans, things left discarded on the floor in the effort to find other things… the whole mess was bad, but the corner with his PC was the worst off, of course) before shrugging and setting his phone and keys on what little free space the kitchen counter had, opening the fridge to grab the last of the PR energy drinks he received some time ago. As he popped the ring on the top of the can, a light buzz against the countertop caused him to look over, jumping over his things again to check his phone.

**_1 NEW MESSAGE - ajay !!!!_ **

_Don’t forget - combat practise @ kings tomorrow._

Right, that was a thing that Bangalore had organised. Octavio thought back for a moment to the game today, and the look on her face in the hallway as she gave him that lecture, quietly rolling his eyes before texting back, thumbs moving unnaturally fast - though that described him perfectly.

_sí, got it. Can’t wait to get lectured by mom numero dos bc my posture sucks or whatever jajaja_

Seeing her reply rather quickly, he made the choice to put his phone down and on do not disturb as to not succumb to another ‘respect your fellow legends’ rant. Drumming his fingers against the side of the kitchen counter, he looked back to his PC for a moment before he grabbed his drink and made his way over, swiping an empty noodle carton off with the side of his arm and booting up the rig. A few hours of streaming couldn’t help, surely? After all, the Octrain never stopped, and he would do anything for his fans. Resuming his drumming on the computer desk, Octavio spun around in his chair, prosthetics sweeping across the trash surrounding him, to which he ignored in favour of excitement, and perhaps a twinge of dread for the next day. Not that he could do that. Right? These legends had been fighting for longer than he had, but they had nothing on the speed demon Octane. Yeah… it was going to be fine. 

It was going to be fine.


End file.
